


A Seed Blossoms

by Analytical_Cochineal



Series: A Hero Blooms [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past
Genre: Gen, Hurt, Inspired by Linked Universe, Younger Link
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:14:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23145265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Analytical_Cochineal/pseuds/Analytical_Cochineal
Summary: *Help me...Please help me...I am a prisoner in the dungeon of the castle.My name is Zelda.The wizard, Agahnim, has done... something to the other missing girls.Now only I remain...Agahnim has seized control of the castle and is now trying toopen the seven wise men's seal. ...  ...I am in the dungeon of the castle.Please help me...*Link wakes up roughly from his dream and sees his uncle leave the house. He knows something is wrong and runs after him. One decision jumpstarts a whole adventure
Series: A Hero Blooms [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663756
Kudos: 11





	A Seed Blossoms

**Author's Note:**

> Got Inspired by playing a Link To the Past for the first time. It's pretty fun! I hope you enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Help me...
> 
> Please help me...
> 
> I am a prisoner in the dungeon of the castle.
> 
> My name is Zelda.
> 
> The wizard, Agahnim, has done...
> 
> something to the other missing girls. Now only I remain...
> 
> Agahnim has seized control of the castle and is now trying to open the seven wise men's seal...
> 
> I am in the dungeon of the castle.
> 
> Please help me...*
> 
> Link wakes up, his uncle leaves the house with a desperate look and he knows he won't be coming back. One decision jumpstarts a whole adventure.

Link wakes up with a gasp and a chest that constricts as he throws himself upright. Words playing through his mind, disjointed and tumbling around like die in a cup. 

He screws his eyes shut as his head **explodes** , the nerves in his forehead burn. Something is forcing this on him and he feels irritated as he tastes cotton and smells _white_. He is not sure how he is smelling a colour, or maybe it was light? Eugh! His head hurt more thinking about it!

Yet he can't stay mad, a beautiful teenage girl flashes inside his mind's eye. Dressed humbly but with a regal air, with sunshine, golden locks and delicate hands clasped together in prayer. Her whole visage despairing and scared, but she hides it well. Head held high and hopeful, certain of her message as she hums inside her little dark and gloomy prison cell. 

The dream is as foggy as it is clear. White around the edges yet the mirage doesn't posses the uncertainty dreams usually possess. The message is clear, like a bell tolling inside his head. A girl asking for help, princess Zelda asking for help. Of course, he knows who she is, who in the kingdom doesn't? And if he did forget his uncle would swiftly remind him so there was no danger in forgetting.

But the dream is not what is on his mind when he opens his eyes, curtained by choppy pink bangs he still has not grown used to. His shoulders feel empty at the phantom feeling of long unruly hair.

He sees his uncle getting up, or had he already been standing? In his dazed mind, he can't tell. He barely can keep his eyes open through a cough and the shaking of his awakening body. A development as new as the pink hair that sprouted from his scalp. He had not felt this weak since he had gotten so sick as a child. Well, younger his uncle would say and laugh and he would pout and play like he was offended, that he was unaffected while he wanted to roll his eyes and scoff. Of course, he meant younger and it was not like he was a child! He is twelve! Totaly not a kid anymore! 

But he could not be angry, or make a mock pout, or smile at old jokes. No, his uncle had been pacing around the room not out boredom. Or out of the strange habit he has developed of letting him have everything as his uncle scraped by. 

His uncle is wearing thick padding, enough to take out a whole ranch of cuckoos! Wearing old scraps of chainmail and gloves. Belts and satchels and most eye-catching, his shining metal sword and shield. 

The sight strikes fear in his heart, makes his trembling form still, empties his head off the blissful sleep he had up until now. The words leaving his uncle's lips don't register immediately, the dawning realization of what is going to happen does first. He can't ignore it, even as something cold and sterile tugs at the corners of his mind. His breath feels like it has been stolen away and he is not sure if he will ever breathe right again.

His uncle gazes sorrowfully but firmly at him. Straightens his posture and makes headway for the door without a pause. His familiar, kind face hardened in desperation.

"Link, I'm going to be out for a while. I'll be back by morning. Don't leave the house." 

Link's breathing stutters. He understands, of course, he does. The meaning behind the words, the context together with the howling wind and the message of light in the dark. But it is too late to protest, to ask what is going on. To think about the words harder, to derive just a little more meaning out of them. His uncle is out of the door faster than a game of chase the fairy. Leaving the home feeling empty, silent. Only the sound of a storm thrashing on their humble small abode echoes through Link's head. Lightning spark in his fingertips, in his toes. The thunder a cacophony as the rainfall patters and beats, like an orchestra he does not want to hear, not now, when he is all alone.

He sits in the bed for far longer than he would like, stunned and trying to breathe right. Dread rises in his chest, filling his heart and lungs. The world comes falling all around him as he lies still. He had done nothing yet and somehow, it feels like the end of the world. 

The months had not been kind, worse than the years before, but bearable. They were luckier than most. It's what Link assumes. He has not been outside, not since soldiers started patrolling every noon and eve of every day. Since the outside smelled like rot and fire magic, unnatural. Since he had seen anyone aside from his uncle. Since he started feeling so sick and weak. Since his hair started bleeding pink like the geraniums he used to pick to cheer up his uncle, to decorate the house with when the mornings used to still be bright. When he had friends who would visit and play with him in the woods. He has not seen them in a while and he fears the worst because he knows what happens when the world does not feel right. When men get desperate. When the sky looms ominously every day in and out. Something is happening, something beyond his compression and his uncle is the desperate man who just walked out of their home. Doing something that meant he was never coming back. Rescuing the princess from an evil man, it's like a story from a picture book.

It feels like a nightmare but unfortunately, it's reality, his beating heart, thundering against his ribcage tells him as much. He knows the difference all too well, the dream that woke him is a great example. Though, could he call that a dream? The longer the moment persists the more he realises that his active imagination has not been acting up. It was a call of help from the princess of Hyrule, her royal highness is in danger and it seems she is the lucky one from the words that buzz from between his ears. Zelda could not rely on anyone else, not anymore by the sound of it. The soldiers turned, evil is brewing and the wizard his uncle cursed under his breath whenever he thought Link was not listening, is at the centre of it all. 

The decision is made before Link can think it through, time is of the essence and he has forgotten to keep track of how much of it has past since his uncle left. Too long as he sat without a peep from his dumbstruck jaw, fiddling nervously with the too-long sleeves of his sleeping tunic. It is time for action, regardless of what is expected of him.

Link jumps from the bed, stumbles and forces his trembling legs to cooperate. The grey fabric of his sleeping garment pulls on his thin arms and legs, ending to the back of his knees. Though from the front it comes lower, times have not been kind and his stomach grows taut at the reminder of his frail physique. The urge to bite his fingers prods in his mind. But he does not, he could not get distracted.

He pulls it off of him in a single motion, does not care for the mess he makes by throwing it on the floor and scrambling for the clothing chest. He pulls out the first tunic that doesn't have holes in them or would leave him shivering from being out in the rain. It is his only one for the winter, thicker than the rest that used more layers to keep him warmer during the difficult season. But he does not have the time or the patience to start combining clothes and pulls the undershirt together with the tunic on his body. 

Like many of his clothes, it's green, undeniably unpopular green. Better tailored than all the others that came from hand me downs his uncle was able to acquire when they still had friendly company over the floor. The only clothing item of his that was bought in town and had hanged of a display. Albeit with a price so low because people would give the garment the stink eye. The tailor had been the sentimental type, like his uncle.

Still, it does not look particularly fancy, or expensive or special. It is a plain stitched tunic that resembles the typical clothing his uncle wears as well, of the hero in the legends passed down from his bedtime stories. 

But it is special to him and for a second he admires the hem of the tunic where neat stitches line the end of the cloth. Looking for his boots as he checks off everything in his head.

It comes above his knees, the garment honestly looks more like a dress than it does than a tunic with how long it is on him. Especially after he wrapped a thick belt around his waist that helps with keeping his form stable. Otherwise, the tunic just sags and makes it hard to move in. Under the sleeves, on the sides of his tunic, the stitches are looser, wide enough to see his undershirt. For breathing space, his uncle had told him, so you would grow into it. Years later and the tunic is still too big. Then again, what was he expecting? It was a small adult sized tunic, he should count himself lucky he just had to bunch up the fabric over his waist so that he wouldn't trip from the many sudden manoeuvers he pulled running and ducking while playing.

At least the thing is sleeveless, rolling up his sleeves all the time would be annoying.

There is not much to grab, nothing that comes immediately to mind in his haste. He finds his green cap on the table where he can see his uncle has made some adjustments to hide his hair better. It is the only clothing item he owns that fits him perfectly and he slips it over his head, knowing he would need it in this weather. A hood would be more useful, preferably attached to a cape. But it would take too much time to find it and the Phrygian cap gives him comfort, reminds him of his uncle. It's what gives him the strength to not crumble down from the terror that grows the longer he takes to get ready. 

With everything on, Link does not hesitate to go running after his uncle. 

He knows that he had been ordered to stay home, to stay and hide, if necessary. Knows that he should be a good boy and obey for his safety. Knows that the call for help isn't a coincidence, that this is not some random night outing his uncle goes out on weekly. If he does not act he might never see his only family member again. He knows that deep down in his heart and the conviction drives him to do the opposite.

Not for a single second does he worry for himself, not when he stands before the door and not when he hears the terrible weather blowing and crashing from outside. 

He is ready to slam the door open and run through the night, to get his uncle back or to at least warn him. To warn him of the emergency the princess is in, of the untold danger that he can feel rising in every pore of his body. To maybe fight alongside him, with whatever he may find. He was resourceful and two heads are better than one. He was not a little kid anymore, he was not going to hide. Not when it could cost his uncle's life.

But he pauses, his eyes raking across the room. Realizing with finality that there might also be a chance for him that he might not be coming back. His eyes land on the shining chest behind the table. Technically in front of the table from where he stood now. But he had not seen it when he had been putting on clothes.

It's new compared to all the scrap and old items laying around the house. Smaller than the chests they keep their valuables in. It catches his attention. He goes over to it and is not surprised to find the lantern there. It truly is a Hylian thing to put common household items in fitting chests, always surprisingly useful for the mission at hand. He has a feeling he will need this, in the dark when not a light has shined through the night since autumn fell. Luckily the flame is covered so as long as the oil does not run out he should be fine.

Link picks it up and hums in confusion when he notices the particular feeling of the lantern. It's not a new one, not one he has never seen before so he does not understand why it feels different. Why he feels something tug in his body that makes him feel strangely invigorated. But he does not dwell on it. Rather he realises his hands won't be free to hold stuff if he had to carry the thing all the way. He feels stronger than he has in weeks, an odd thing he does not pay attention to in this dire situation. But he knows he won't be able to carry it forever unless he wants his hands and arms to cramp. 

Swiftly he takes a hook from the wall, one used for lanterns like these and ties it to his belt with some leftover rope. It's a good thing he is wearing something underneath the tunic because the metal hook and lantern dig into his middle uncomfortably. But he does not dwell on the feeling, he has wasted time enough and has to go now, he can't wait any longer.

Link sprints out of the house, remembering to lock the door for a hot second before he is jumping of wet muddy slopes and looking around on the sandy path. Chest heaving but determined. He hardly feels the rain and the thunder don't scare him either. However, he is careful of where lightning strikes. He counts his blessings for the lack of metal, aside from the hook and the buckle of his belt, on him. 

Two golden guards stand on the path, overlooking the way down to the swampy lands. He approaches them, ready to ask or to hear them out. But his mouth clamps shut when he nears them, remembers the suspicious behaviour of the army that was supposed to protect the citizens of these lands. Of his uncle's snide remarks and worried glances whenever a man in armour came close to their house. He can't ask them, that would possibly alert them to the presence of his uncle making his way to the castle. 

The men watch him gape at them like a Zora and since he was soaked to the bone he might as well be one. They take pity upon him, he thinks, but their words are nothing but hard. Not cruel but condescending and not helping his panic one bit.

"What're you doing up this late, kid? You can stay up when you're grown up! Now go home!" 

He wants to scoff, to argue against the reprimand. He could not go home, his uncle was in danger! Zelda was in danger! Someone had to do something! 

But he doubts he can get that through to do these meatheads. The second guard is mumbling something about maps and Link has decided he is done with these two. He would not get anything out of them.

So Link nods, acts like a stupid little kid enlightened by a courageous guard and walks up back the slope. Seeing the castle in the short distance as he turns his head. Smirking as he walks by his house and jumps off the hill at the back instead. Mud sprays everywhere.

He is a lot dirtier than what is necessary but he would rather take that than a guard becoming suspicious and reporting him. He is not sure if there is a curfew yet but he would not be surprised either if staying out late has become punishable by law. Sometimes adults liked punishing other adults by treating them like children. It was an odd world they lived in.

Link runs along the fence towards the water leading up the bridge of the castle. Whites stone shining like beacons in the night, but it is not enough to light to make him see. Link pulls the lantern from his belt and lights his way. Trying to be silent, sneaky, unseen, like the exiting Sheikah tales his uncle used to whisper about late at night. When he could not go to sleep and needed a heart-thumping story of adventure and mystery to occupy his young, troubled mind. Seated together on the bed as he hung off his uncle's every word. Tugging and pleading to continue whenever the older man would stop telling the story. Enamoured with the action and the promise of happy endings.

It feels like a stone has been lodged in his throat as he recalls the memory. It feels unpleasant.

Link startles at the sight of a guard in front of the front gate, not expecting to run into one so suddenly, nog while he was daydreaming. Nightdreaming? Whatever he was spacing out. The lantern was useful but not very efficient in avoiding people who were not supposed to see him.

Link nearly has an early heart attack as the guard gazes at him with a look of adult disappointment. The sight of his blue bright shield gives Link shivers. The thing is larger than he is and that is without mentioning the size of the man behind it. He does not dwell on it as the man speaks. Calling him out from wandering to the door. A mistake he would not make again by walking slower. It is hard to see in the rain, he probably should not have jogged over the bridge without at least trying to see what was behind it. His first serious sneak mission was not doing so well.

"Hey, hey! You're not allowed in the castle, son! Go home and get some sleep!"

It is the same thing the other guard says but it feels different. Stern and with power behind it, he does not want to mess with this guy. Those two guards had nothing on him.

Link backtracks, trying to force an apologetic smile that hopefully convinces the man and turns to the right. It is too dark for the man to see him walking beside the castle wall rather than returning to where he came. Not that he would know where he came from anyway. Not with the enormous helmet obstructing his view, the cover of the night helps too.

Link dims his light, holding the lantern in front of him for enough light. Staying close to the ground so to not alarm the identical guards patrolling above him. 

The cold seeps through his clothes, more so when he is lowkey crawling to reach the corner of the castle. Sighing in relief when he sees a lack of patrol or any other living thing across the grassy path. 

He walks upright and feels his bones and muscles pleasantly crack from being able to walk normally again. He winces at the noise, so loud he would almost worry about anyone hearing him. But the weather has him covered on the sound department. With each second he is outside the rain seems to worsen, all subtle sounds are drowned out by it. At every blast of lightning thunder follows, Link does not have to worry about being too loud. It is what pushes him to abandon being careful when he is sure he is alone. He does not have the patience or time to search for any threats nearby. He feels himself getting agitated.

Link hooks his lantern back on his belt, not needing to hold it any longer when there is no use to directing his light to look closer. There is nothing but grass and tiles. It leaves him stumped, conflicted as his heart beats to the rhythm of his anxiety. Afraid, so afraid of where his uncle could be. 

His gut feeling had been right up until this point. There had to be something here, otherwise, he would have to go the other way. Worry sneaking its way in his senses, more guards might be that way. It's a miracle nobody is here on the east side of the castle.

Lightning cracks overhead, startles him bad enough to make him stumble back into the grass. His boot snags against a sturdy root and Link curses. 

Oh if only his uncle could hear him now! Mimicking the foul language he heard him use when talking to adults while he was playing with the village kids. But most likely his uncle would be angrier about the fact that he was outside when he told him not to. That he was so close to the castle and was inviting danger onto himself. The anger from taking Hylia's name in vain would be more preferable to the disappointment he can already taste. Of the frustration of not knowing why this is happening as the conflict of doing what feels right hums in his veins. The word destiny comes to mind but it's not as glorious as it should feel as he hits the ground and winces at the sharp rocks that pierce his back.

The world comes crashing down, the cold, the rain, the thunder and the lightning. The mud, the grass and his shudders of fear. 

But he does not land, his lower back hits a corner of something hard and grass gives away to a hole in the ground. He tries to get up, to scramble away from the hollowness from underneath him. Gasping for air as his back fits perfectly into the square shape of earth that is trying to suck him in. His cap almost slips off and he holds a tight grip on it like the fool he is. It's what makes him lose the battle of gravity.

A voice chimes in his head, familiar and light. Desperate and singing as he falls, going back first and limbs last. White light shines before his eyes and all that he can think as he becomes weightless is:

'A little late for that, don't you think?' 

"Help me...

I am in the dungeon of the

castle.

I know there is a hidden path

from outside of the castle to

the garden inside." 

Pain makes him snarky. Bratty, adults would say. Funny, his friends would snicker as they laughed and praised him for standing up to anyone, big or small. The memory fills him with pride.

But the thought hardly matters when he hits the shallow water. Stone tiles driving the air out of his lungs as he curls into himself. Splashing around the rainwater as he tries hard to block out the fire that burns his back. Ironically he is very much cold but the injury scorches like hellfire. Makes the lower part of his right backside throb. He can't even scream out of shock, just whimper as he greedily sucks in air through gasps of pain. His whole body shakes.

He is lucky, however, despite in how pain he is. Contact with the floor had not killed him, or left him paralyzed, missing his spine and other sensitive spots that would be his end. No matter how much he moans and wheezes.

His fingers and hands are scraped, the back of his heels protected by boots, but Link doubts they will hold for another month. The fabric of his hat took the worst of the collision with his head against the uneven rocks, positively filled with water that he gets a hair wash every time he rolls to the side to relieve the pain.

Link grits his teeth, feeling weak for wanting to lay down a few more minutes. But he can't, not with a future so uncertain. Not when he feels frailer the longer he stays down. Not when he wants to close his eyes and sleep away the nightmare. It would be a lot simpler if he woke right now and did not have to worry about what comes after.

He rises slowly, uses the wall behind him to stay steady on his feet. Breathing in and out steadily, poking at every inch were the pain is to be found. To assess the damage, the second lessen his uncle taught him when he started his lessons in swordplay. How to care for himself is what would save his life in sticky situations, literally.

He flinches as he touches his back and aborts his mission of testing how far his pain limit went. He did not want to find out how much he could take. It is a disturbing thought and with how he has gained entrance into the castle he is not willing to think too deeply about what was waiting for him beyond the corner of the cramped stone corridor. 

The room, if he could call it that, is small and it smells. The water rises halfway up his boots and he can see that the floor is lower than the tiles further up ahead. Probably to make sure the castle did not flood, though with how full the pool was getting he doubts the lower level will stay dry for long. Not that this place is very dry, with all the condensed water the room is pretty dank. It's probably where the smell came from, that and the moss growing at the corners of the walls.

His lantern still hangs from his belt by some wonder he does not dare question. Weirdly intact and burning too. It is what makes it easy to see in the dark damp hallway. The hook thing turned out to be a great idea, Link does not want to think of what would have happened if he had walked while holding it as he fell. Although he muses bitterly, he might have seen the root he tripped on. 

But beggars can't be choosers and he presses on, more determined than ever. Bruises aching but not done for in the slightest. Young and kicking, he will heal fast, no doubt about it. He feels full of energy and with a bounce, in his step he hurries to the dim lighting of the candles hanging far above his head. Trailing the walls for any hidden switches or details he might miss. Taking out his lantern to look closer. 

If he had thought something bad was going on, it's worse inside of the castle. Like a fog it swirls around his head, thick and prickly on his tongue. Like mash and gravy prepared by Mirlo's father. He had been sick for weeks.

That aside, no food poisoning could produce such apprehension as Link uses the end of his cap to cover his mouth. It's no use though, the miasma is nothing compared to the stink of the water he fell into. Link wants to gag. His whole face is wet now too and he honestly prefers the rain to how disgusting he feels now. 

With every step he takes he, breaths in the smell of filthy germ water, the more nauseous he becomes. He staggers on his feet and wrings out his tunic about a dozen times before he stops and looks ahead. Cautiousness making its way to his bearings. The fall has knocked some sense into him and he does not run immediately over to see what it is.

Something is laying on the ground, something shiny that shimmers in the lowlight. A dark figure is passed out against the wall in front of it, their outline is familiar and Link's mouth feels dry.

His first thought is to help them but the closer he looks the faster he realises who the figure is, what the object is shining into his eyes. He pauses.

He swallows, hard and approaches the still-warm body. Body trembling, his hands can't stay still. His lantern shakes from side to side as he holds it up to the man's face and sees the last thing he wanted to see.

For a second he wishes it was someone else but then feels terrible at the thought. His eyes sting and but it isn't from the appalling smell firmly in his nostrils.

The sight of his uncle's face had always been a comfort since he was a little toddler, his dark brown eyes would crinkle whenever he would laugh at something Link did. The bushy moustache he had joked about shaving in the elder's sleep would always tip him off to the mood his uncle was in. Bouncing up when he wanted to laugh and going down sideways when he was trying to hide a frown.

His face is cold, dark and Link can't see his eyes from under the shadows his tilted head provides. Dark splotches of a liquid Link does not want to identify is spattered in his black hair. It cakes the strands of hair to his sweaty face. 

His whole body is limp, like a bag thrown haphazardly to the wayside. The way he is sumped looks awkward, his upper body leaning too far to be natural. His legs sprawling out uselessly in front of him.

And still, his uncle's hand is holding the square-shaped shield he took when he went out the door in a death grip. It's too small for him and whoever attacked him must have made use of that detail. Link can spot the brown and red seeping into the side of his uncle's stomach. 

Link flinches, denial flashing through every inch of mind. His legs feel weak and the belt around his waist too tight. The lantern too heavy in his hand and the band of his cap too constricting around his head. 

He can't breathe, he can't **breathe** , 

he can not b r e a t h... 

His uncle, his uncle is-!

A harsh, faint gasp brings him out of his spiralling tirade. Link's eyes are wide as he notices a burly chest heaving up and down. Wilder, spastic, with motions that could break his ribs if the man doesn't calm down. Like he is hyperventilating, and if his uncle is hyperventilating, that means he is alive! 

Link can't hold in the feeling of absolute relief that floods his body, he wants to collapse to join his uncle on the floor. To comfort him and look closer at the wound to see what he can do to help. Never had he done something like this before but he was willing to learn if it meant saving his uncle's life. Never again would he complain about a medical lesson in his life! Holy Hylia, his uncle is alive!

However, Link is brought back to reality as he comes closer, a smile slipping past his lips in sheer happiness that his uncle was not a corpse. 

But the smile vanishes as soon as it had appeared as he finds his uncle's gaze on him. He bites his cheek and feels ashamed for the elation that had filled his chest. His uncle looks worse at the sight of him.

He gapes at him, the whites in his eyes bloodshot. His pupils are small and filled with terror. His uncle is shaking and sweating with every large breath he takes from his abused lungs. He looks like he has seen a ghost. Like his world is breaking down right in front of him, like he has lost something that means everything to him. 

Link prefers the disappointment over this, prefers anything over this! Blood trails from his uncle's lips as he tries his best to form words. His free hand reaches instinctively for the wound on his right side. Pain purs from every pore of his body.

Link reaches down too, feeling stupid for not helping him sooner. Of course, the wound needed pressure and his uncle could not provide with how much in pain he must be! He's an idiotic, selfish, stupid chi-!

His uncle slaps his hand away, still strong enough to grunt and give an exasperated look. Link would feel sheepish but it is not the time to be embarrassed. What was his uncle doing?! He needed help! 

Still, he does not try it again and places the lantern on the floor. Maybe he could give the rope he used for the hook to him so he could put pressure on it himself? Tying it around his middle and then try to find their way out of here. Though, Link glances back at where he came, the pain reminding him of his not so gentle fall. He doubts they could go back through the hole in the ceiling.

The elder opens his mouth and Link listens desperately for the sage advice he will follow in a heartbeat. Annoyed at how long it took for him to help, feeling useless. The only thing that keeps him from cussing or taking matters in his own hands is his inexperience with the situation. He does not want to mess up and somehow make it worse.

"Ungh... Link, I didn't want you involved in this... I told you not to leave the house..."

The words echo in the hallway like a broken wind chime. Link feels incredulous but more so fearful of his uncle's priorities. That hardly matters now! 

He does not snap despite how uneasy he is starting to get. Having an inkling that the next words coming won't be instructions on how to stabilize his uncle's condition and get them both out of here. His surprisingly steady hands start to shake again. Surely his uncle was not planning to-

His uncle smiles sadly.

"...Take my sword and shield and listen closely, Link. Remember everything I have taught you." 

Link nods carefully, biting his teeth. His eyes sting.

"Focus and concentrate on your surroundings, lower your stance and steady your hand. ..Then release your hold using the secret technique handed down by our people..."

His uncle breaths slower, his mouth lax as he musters the last of his strength on his words. Broken yet accepting of his fate, he grins wider. His eyes shine proudly and affectionately at him.

Link's heart _shatters_. 

"Link, you can do it! I believe in you. Save the Princess... 

Zelda is your..."

His eyes become unfocused, glassy and the last thing he wanted to say goes unsaid. His chin meets his chest and the wavering hand at his side falls to the ground. His shield tumbles away from him, away from his body.

Everything goes silent but Link's head is filled with clashing turmoil. He stares, continues to stare as his knees hit the stone floor. His flesh digs painfully into the jagged ends of the tiles. His knees are going to bruise but he does care. He watches the rhythm of his uncle's chest, not leaving him. He knows the second he leaves he will... 

He is not sure if the blood had stopped pouring from the wound, does not dare to look. He points the lantern away, feeling bile rise in his mouth. Not able to look at him longer with what he is about to do. 

He can't believe he would, wants to protest at the idea of it. Leaving his uncle behind was a death sentence for the man. He would never... His uncle will die down here. It's surprising he hasn't yet, but then again, they were both stubborn folk. It's stubbornness that makes him stay kneeled in front of his uncle's unconsciousness body for what feels like hours. The night could have gone by and he would not have noticed. Days, months could have come by and he would have not minded. 

He just wants, he wants. He...

His eyes sting, tears fall. He does not bother stopping them. Time passes, it must have been a few minutes, maybe five or ten but he can't sit still for too long. There was something still to do and he and his uncle would never forgive him if he did not move on. if he did not advance and sat staring silently at a cooling body. At his uncle who he can feel is getting weaker and weaker. He won't ever see his uncle again when he leaves, will never hear him again, won't ever hear him smile, make jokes or take care of him. Won't ever come home again. The house will be empty...

Link wants to say he does not know what to do, that he has no direction. That if he plays ignorant and lost that the only person who he has held so close to his heart will magically heal to reassure him that he is not alone. That this was a tale of two heroes rather than one hero.

But reality doesn't work like that, he knows. He can deny it childishly all he wants but he is smart enough to know if he starts now that he won't stop. That if he opens the floodgates he would get nothing done.

Link calmly stands up, face blank. His head is void, resounding back hollowly as he pushes everything down. Locking his emotions away as one last teardrop falls from his tear-streaked face. It falls on his damp tunic and does not change anything to the wet state of his clothes.

Zelda, Zelda is on his mind as he takes up the sword and the shield, testing their weight. The sword is heavier than his practising sword at home but the drain from holding a weapon not made for his hands doesn't register. The shield is more his size, lighter too. But seeing as he knows what caused his uncle's injury he does not trust it very much. Alas, his uncle was right-handed but he won't make the same mistake. The princess needs him, he can't die.

He hooks the lantern back on his belt and redoes the knot of the rope.

Link does not remember the story of the Seven Wise Men. His uncle..., he swallows dry and painfully. Like he's chewing on rocks, the events spread before him are hard to believe. Hard to fully understand. Going into the night, standing by his uncle's side as they saved the princess and fought off the evil prophecies have foretold for ages upon ages, is easy to follow. Like a game of knights, he used to play with his uncle when they had been happier, healthier. When his uncle was still...

Link hiccups, dragging a harsh hand over his eyes. Digs his nails into his cheeks to go back to his emotionless mask. Biting his lip until he pierces the skin at his slip up. Sealing it away. Getting distracted was not an option, not in this dim rotten, foul cobblestone hallway. 

The Seven Wise Men was definitely a part of _a story_ and Zelda has said something about a seal... Regardless of what Agahnim was trying to do it could not be anything good, to put it lightly. 

He makes his way down the hall, conflicted about exiting it as he looks back for once more time. He wants to get away as soon as possible but that meant...saying goodbye

Link glimpses for the last time at his uncle, his heart pangs but he stomps down the overwhelming urge to run back and hug his uncle for one last time. To feel him one last time against him, to hold his hand and wish that he had been sooner, had been faster, that he would have run through the rain. Risking slipping and falling if it meant he could have protected his uncle from getting run through by a damn dirty kingdom backstabbing castle guard.

It would be pointless, time-wasting. It will only hurt more since his uncle can't reciprocate, can't squeeze his hand back not wake up, that Link knows.

"...I... will make you proud, uncle."

Link murmurs, his words are fact, but he does not know that yet. Does not believe his uncle was already proud of him. Can't with how angry he is with himself. He is not afraid. 

With a determined heavy soul, he turns around the corner and steps into the empty doorway. Embracing the darkness as _courage_ shines from deep within. Whispering to himself as he turns his feelings to stone.

Zelda is waiting.

"I love you..."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always a treat and it would mean the world to me if you saw an error or a grammar mistake that I get notified of it. 
> 
> Again, thank you to all the Linked Universe writers for their work and the wonderful Jojo for creating such a fantastic AU to start with. I wish everyone a wonderful day and to stay strong! You are loved.
> 
> Also, I'm pretty new to tagging and rating so if I need to add new tags I'm unaware of or need to change ratings please notify me.


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